Sheer
by BehrBeMine
Summary: FITA ficlet. The tortured moments in the chapter, My Stepfather, settle uneasily in Cathy’s young mind, as she loses much more than her virginity.


**Title**: Sheer  
**Fandom**: _Flowers in the Attic  
_**Author**: BehrBeMine  
**Disclaimer**: I play in this world, though it is not mine. It belongs to V.C. Andrews.  
**Summary**: The tortured moments in the chapter, _My Stepfather_, settle uneasily in Cathy's young mind, as she loses much more than her virginity.  
**Rating**: R. Dark concept.  
**Pairing**: Chris/Cathy - (Warning: incest ahead.)  
**Note**: **fanfic100** Prompt: _Blue_. Also, the quote by Chris I use within is in V.C. Andrews' novel.  
**Word Count**: 636

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There are things to be remembered, and there are things one can't forget. If only they could have known that God fearing relatives, whose words were insane and whose punishments cut deeply, were spitting forth words of foreboding that would come to be. The Grandmother had predicted it, with her Bible in place of a heart. And on that night, it came to be. She had foreseen it, she had insisted this sin would come forth, and yet that removed no shock when the situation was brought to bear.

If ever there were sweeter words to become so twisted and agonizing in retrospect, it was those that Chris gave Cathy right before he seized her and pulled her to the ground. "The moonlight is etching you with silver-blue, and I can see the shape of your body through your clothes." Chris looked at her as those words left him, the tortured artist, narrating a girl whose beauty steered him into territory so dangerous, those involved weren't likely to be saved.

Cathy's peignoir, which caressed her starving body in tune with the wind, had a feather-light quality that moved across her flesh, creating slow tickles that melted into goosebumps. In the moonlight she had stood at that moment, her troubled mind seeking beautiful things to be found only in memory. The music of the silver box from Daddy hummed to her senses, awakening her longing for something she couldn't name. The sheer material of her peignoir moved with the slight wind, the very blue of it giving her pale skin an unreal shine. She was captivating, more than she could know. Wispy purple silk clung to the edges of the fabric, now and then touching her visible underwear.

She knew not that she was a temptress, at the age of fifteen. She knew not that she was a dancing goddess whose deflowering would bury her in a lifelong grave of shame.

Seized so roughly by the stranger who wore Chris' eyes, she fell to the planks of wood beneath her. In the second before she was brought down, she found some tiny grain of acceptance deep within her that knew this encounter would have come, sooner or later. Inevitability was the ugliest thing, but she did not think this. She did not think much of anything during she and Chris' silent struggle, permeated only by sounds of rough grunting and gasping at all that was so wrong.

She was both innocent and guilty at once. This was being done to her, but she was letting it continue. Deep down, she wanted this, _needed_ it, too. Chris was not alone in his torture. By her brother she was deflowered beneath endless paper blossoms, swaying sadly in the cool attic breeze. Cathy comprehended close to nothing, but the only place to look was above her, and there she saw those blossoms that had been so painstakingly designed and hung. Their bright color had withered to become dull, as attic dust suffocated the paper. The flowers looked like they were dying, was what Cathy thought. There was no life in their sway.

Just as some things were left to die, other things flickered afire – ready to be set ablaze in the future that would come with its questions, its guilt, and its regret. Coughing amid the attic dust, Cathy let her dreams of success and fame waver between life and death, their fate as yet undecided. She became one with Chris, one with sin, and one with her own damnation.

There was always a color, for the memory of each of their days. As for this one, it was blue. Colored so by a brother's description of a young girl standing against a dark sky and covered in nothing but a layer, so easily discarded, never to be worn again.

- -  
end


End file.
